My own personal marathon of 1435 steps

How can one ever know one’s limits – unless they are tested?

I went to fitness this morning – and it turned out to be more like “stretching class” for me. I had good intentions.  We started on the step with cardio.  I quickly realized that it was too hot, I was too tired, and … something was very wrong.  I stopped to catch my breath.  There was to be no step class today.

So, Vandie (my friend and personal trainer so-to-speak) flipped the class to pilates.  “I can do this,” thought I.  No worries.  Out came the mats, the hand weights, and the ring.  Leg work-out?  No problem.  Chest flies?  No problem.  Sit ups?  Ummm.  Sort of.  Wait.  No. No sit-ups.  Okay, one.  That’s it.

“How be we do some stretching?” asked Vandie.

“Okay, I think that’s a good idea.”

Ummm.  Nope.  Suddenly, I felt very nauseated.  “I’m just going to rest, Vandie.”

“Stacey, you do what you can.  It’s just good to keep moving – no matter how much.”

I tried to lift the pilates balls – my arms shook too much.

I tried to lift my legs – my body didn’t cooperate.

So, I lay down and stretched.

I quickly realized that today would not be an active day.  What I need to remember is that I have low red blood count and no matter how hard I push, I cannot just, “get over” it.  There is no working through the pain.  There is no such thing as “no pain, no gain” when it comes to chemo-related fatigue.  Red blood cells matter.  And I think I’m low today.

But –

I didn’t cry.  I wasn’t upset like I was the last time this happened.  I was okay with my fatigue.  At least I made it to Vandie’s.

“Good for you, Stacey, for getting through,” Vandie encouraged me.

“Good for, you, Stacey, for getting out,” said Carol, admitting how illness can be isolating if you don’t get out.

“Good for me, Stacey,” I confessed to myself.  I was kind to myself.

I am being kind to myself today.

I went back to bed.  Today – isn’t going to be an active day.  Tomorrow – may be a whole new story.  I know I need to recover so that I can face my final chemo.  And I will.  I need to prepare and it is not the way that “I” choose.  It is the way my “body” tells me to prepare.  I must listen.

Rest.

Recover.

Repeat.

I would never have known my limit today, if I had not tested it.  It took me less than 1435 steps to realize – I had run my own marathon already.  And that’s good enough for today.

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About inmycorner

This blog began as an opportunity to tell my Dad's stories. I sat with him and the computer and together we told stories. It was a wonderful way to get to know Dad. He was 9. He and Mom had a wonderful life together and since she passed away a year and a half before him - Dad was ready to join her. I no longer tell his stories but have found stories of my own. The impetus to resume this blog was the discovery that I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Since blogging had been so therapeutic for my dad and I to get through our grief, I felt maybe this would be a good outlet to process my situation. I also hoped it may serve as an outreach to anyone else who is facing this very ominous journey. So far, so good.
This entry was posted in acceptance, activity, cancer, challenges, courage, fitness, fitness and health, inspiration, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to My own personal marathon of 1435 steps

  1. sharechair says:

    I like to think of progress as a number line. Remember those? When I was teaching, we used them to measure reading level progress. Now I find I use the “number line” to measure life in general. Just as long as I move forward on that number line (in the positive direction) …. move forward on that number line just a wee bit ….. it’s a good day. Progress is progress no matter how small. You got out, and moved forward on the number line. Good for you!
    🙂 Kathy

  2. Every step today was one step closer to that last treatment. Way to knock those steps out of the way. I’m glad you’re being kind to you. You’re the best one for the job.

  3. Gallivanta says:

    You had a go; that’s a great achievement.

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